When I met you
by sweetlilmenotu
Summary: A sizzy one shot.


_Isabelle closed her eyes, and smiled. She'd finally felt it. True happiness. The sort that was impossible to ruin. She loved this feeling. So pure that every shortcoming turned into a sweet perk. Every mishap a blessing. She would never imagined being this happy in her eighties. Dressed in a beautiful white frock, her hair in an elaborate twist- she looked ridiculous. Yet the unconventional way in which she had been forced into having a mock wedding on fiftieth anniversary of the actual event, by her adorable grandchildren, whom she loved- made the moment 'd spent months calling all her friends and family, notifying them about the event. The day had been perfect, everyone had taken to dressing like themselves so that she felt special. Isabelle Lightwood, forever bold, beautiful and over the top. As she stared at Simon talking to her brother at their makeshift altar, clad in his favourite 'I AM NOT TOO OLD FOR ANIME SO YOU CAN KINDLY PISS OFF' shirt; it looked like he was panicking. Simon- like always- wanted the sentimental stuff to be perfect. He was such a sappy sentimentalist that he had forced everyone to study the scripts he has produced for the event and even had rehearsals for the occasion. The moment their eyes met, her thoughts travelled more than fifty years back in time- when they were both just teenagers venting out their rage at a random stranger they had just met. Back to Central Park in New York City…_

Isabelle didn't like how frustrated she was getting. Anger a feeling she didn't trust. Isabelle Lightwood had always been known for being gorgeous, cool and strong. People feared her. Her cold indifference was way more frightening than rage. Isabelle was always calm, collected; there was never a glimpse of a moment where her mind was utterly under her control. She sipped at her coffee and marvelled at how refreshing it tasted. Her parents were arguing before her, bold and relentless- a casual way of conversing for the two.

"You couldn't even be there for Max," Maryse declared, her eyes fierce. Her mother was the backbone of their family. She possessed the strength of a survivor. Maryse had given up her goal in life, for what she claimed to be true love. The university she had worked so hard to get in and her dreams of being a college lecturer, was given up when she became pregnant with Robert's child. Alexander, whose eyes- which were so blue and innocent- that they had convinced her that they were heading for a future worth making sacrifices for. But then, Robert cheated and the only thing keeping their marriage alive had been Max, who was an unexpected blessing. Ever since Max's death, Maryse wanted all contact with Robert terminated. There silent contract- to remain civil towards each other- had vanished overnight.

"Next to his hospital bed where you spent your nights flirting with the hospital staff, like the lowly creature you are?" Robert asked, raising his eyebrow- feigning scepticism. He was looking for a fight. Isabelle could picture it quite clearly, both of them screaming at each other. Maryse ripping her neatly wound hair at the nape of her neck, telling Robert how he was being unfair and how he knew he was bringing up cheap lies because it was obvious she was there for her son, who had been fighting cancer, instead of staying a thousand miles away like he did. It was always like this, they'd be too busy with work too even acknowledge the other's presence but when they did it was nasty.

Isabelle picked up her empty coffee cup and handed it to their maid, Esther, who nodded at her before returning to the kitchen dutifully. Isabelle wanted out. The tension in the room was exhausting. They were being selfish, wanting to torment each other to no end before the inevitable chaos. Alec and Isabelle job was to simply watch their fights carry on and clean up the after effects, which included an angered Robert threatening to dump them in the streets and a crying Maryse. If the Isabelle from the past had been told of her mother crying, her face would've contorted into the a sickening rage- her mother didn't cry, she was strong.

Donning her warmest clothes and a knapsack that held an extra jacket, her iPod and a blanket, Isabelle stepped into New York City, armed against the cold. She spent the evening wandering aimlessly around Central Park. Angry, Isabelle ran her hands through her hair as she tried to spot a vacant place. Even though it was nearing December and it was very cold, tourists had taken to flocking. It would take her ages to find a good spot now. She bought herself some corndogs at a vendor and munched at them like a wild beast attacking its prey. She was losing her temper at a salty, fat filled snack. What was wrong with her? She strode across the expanse of the park, hoping to find a place where she could listen to angry metal and relax.

A few minutes later, she found herself lying in a comfortable blanket, her hands gripping at the wet grass beneath her as she tried to rummage her bag whilst lying down. The lengths she would go to get her stuff done and yet be lazy while doing so. She was truly one of a kind. Here, Izzy was content. It was just her and her music. No uncontrollable hate, coursing through her veins. No frustrating urge for a break. She was at peace. She was was almost falling asleep when she felt someone shaking her shoulder.

"What?" She wasn't going to be nice to someone who'd interrupted her beauty sleep.

"You're in my spot." She crinkled her eyes at him, frowning at the sun that had decided to shoot rays right at them. New York sunshine was so annoying, if it was going to give her a measly few rays at the face instead of an all out tan she didn't _need_ it.

"Too bad," she snarled, hoping he would head off.

"Please? I can't carry all of this stuff somewhere else." That was when Isabelle decided to look at him. With brown hair sticking all over the place and awkwardly lanky body he definitely suited the sweet lab partner role. _That_ paired with dark _purple_ glasses and the warmest eyes ever, he was an actual cinnamon roll. She sat up, crossing her feet at her lap. Isabelle stared at him, at the bulk of books in his arm.

"Look kid, it's cold here and maybe- just maybe it would be an awesome idea to head home like a normal person?" She pronounced her last words with a higher pitch than the rest of her sentence, making it a question.

"Like a normal person? You're _sleeping_ a public park with mascara dripping down your face. Like normal people would love to be bait for a serial killer," He said, his voice sounding flat to emphasise his sarcasm.

"Honey, we both know that I'll probably be the one surviving against the serial killer. I've got pepper spray and some kick ass martial arts skills with me."

"Sweetie, don't know the dynamics of a fight," He told her with sudden confidence.

"And I suppose you do?"

"I've taken the manga and YA course for it."

Isabelle couldn't take it anymore, she burst out laughing,"Who's your teacher? Wait, I already know who it is.. It's Tobias, right? Your probably going to use your elbows like he instructed Tris to at Dauntless training. At least she has a shot."

"Hey! I'm way more punk than Beatrice." He looked indignant now, with his chest puffing out in his rage. What a five year old.

"And I'm Gandalf."

"You _read_?" He sounded appalled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She narrowed her eyes at him. If he was implying that-

"N-No, it's just that you look too bizarre to do mundane things like reading Tolkien- maybe you just watched the movies."

"How flattering. Now how am I bizarre?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" He looked at her, his expression contorted in what he believed to look sassy. To Isabelle, he just looked petrified.

"Yes. Yes I am."

"You sound like Ferb."

"Whose Ferb? Your boyfriend. You look like someone who'd be into a guy named _Ferb_."

"Are you implying that I'm weird?" He made a noise that sounded like something in between a sarcastic snort and a coughing fit. His acting was the epitome of bad. It took Isabelle a few moments to realise that he was actually beginning to cough. She stared at him, as he sputtered and inhaled loudly. Her gaze was unnerving and incredibly awkward, he felt like an animal watched at a zoo. He tried to guess what part of his asthma was so fascinating as he reached for his inhaler and pumped some air into his windpipe. After getting himself under control.

"Oi Milady?"

"Since I'm the only person here, I'll assume you're referring to me."

"Ferb's not my boyfriend. He's a fictional character from the hit Disney animation 'Phineas and Ferb'."

'Wasn't Phineas the one who usually said that?' she mused to herself.

"How interesting," Isabelle droned, wanting to belittle him. His reactions were so cute that she couldn't help teasing him.

"I suppose you believe in Santa giving you christmas gifts, right?" Isabelle expected him to splutter or give a witty comment to defend himself.

"I'm Jewish."

"Since you may need a bodyguard in case a big bad serial killer came to kidnap your adorable little ass, I'll let you know that I'm Isabelle- you need a name to scream out when he reaches out from behind you and traps you in his arms. Sweetie, you have to remember not to faint. Okay? I'll give you my pepper-spray. If he's too close for you to reach them, kick him where it hurts. No guilt. Cane handle that?"

She wanted to burst out laughing. Yes, she was being mean to him, but his reactions were so hilarious. She felt a little guilty for making fun of him, but she couldn't resist the temptation. He reminded her of Max.

To her surprise, his expression darkened. She stared at how his dark hair fell on his forehead as he glared at her.

"That wasn't funny."

She scooted to her side as she made way for him, patting the empty place she made for him on the blanket. Realising how defiant he was looking, she reached into her knapsack for the packet of mints she kept with her. She offered it to him and was surprised to see that he was still frowning.

"Look, I'm sorry alright. I'm a jerk in a bad mood. I shouldn't have made fun of you. You can now insult me till you feel like we're even," She said in her most level headed tone. She was surprised at how compromising she sounded; _she_ was the one who usually gave hissy fits.

"You are a true chicken shit. An Org. A mundane. A pansy cake. A BULLY. I've already known enough of those fucking assholes, alright? Just 'cause we don't share the same interests doesn't make me lower than in you. It makes you a bit shallow to say that," he exhaled and continued on his rant," Thank you. Isabelle. I've always wanted to say."

"Y-Your welcome," Isabelle told him," I didn't mean it anyway. I don't think I'm better than you.. Actually you're a much better person than me. Don't take it heart."

"Enough sap. I'm Simon."

"For some reason I thought your name would be Sheldon."

"I'd love to have the same name as Dr. Sheldon Cooper, but unfortunately the only quality we share is our brilliant minds."

Isabelle pretended to gag.

"So Izzy?"

"Really?"

"We must not argue with destiny."

"What were you doing sleeping here in the freezing cold. You don't look homeless. Your clothes look expensive enough to buy you an apartment. Louis Vuitton bag? Nope. You're loaded."

"My parents were screaming at each bother again. I got sick of them."

"Well your reasons are not as valid as mine."

"Which are?" She looked at him again, eyebrows raised.

"I had a book haul. I wanted to read in peace. My best friend and I used to come here all the time- it was our favourite reading place. She's not with me today 'case she's with Jace 'My hair is naturally blonde' Whathisname."

Isabelle realised that this was probably her cousin, who'd gotten himself a cute girlfriend a month ago- he'd told her that her best friend was a total geek who hated him. Jace had a tendency to piss off everyone he met.

"Mine's better. You could've read somewhere else," she informed him.

"Is not."

"Real mature."

"Chicken Shit."

"Pansy cake ."

Isabelle loved that moment, when the complexities of the world was forgotten and they were both just immature teens.

 _Isabelle reached their altar, smiling at Simon- her clumsy, funny, sweet and understanding spouse of fifty years._

 _Simon looked at her and saw what he had seen in her when they first met- ferocious strength and unwavering intellect._

 _She intertwined their hands together, smiling at him as he pressed his forehead on her._

 _Their six-year-old grandchild stood on his chair and screamed,"MAKE OUT ALREADY!"_

 _The rest of her friends and family began cheering with Max Lewis. Clary was on her feet cheering with the kid; Jace followed and soon the entire audience had taken to yelling out the words "Make Out!'._

 _Magnus Bane winked at her, as her brother and he started bellowing with the rest of the crowd._

 _Simon looked her in the eye and said,"I love you, chicken shit."_

" _You too, pansy cake."_

 _And then her lips were on his and their sMax finally stopped screaming._

 _ **THAT'S IT FOLKS.**_


End file.
